


Eidolons

by fictionalaspect



Series: Like a California King [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Cabin Fic, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever the mutable,<br/>Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,<br/>Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,<br/>Issuing eidolons.</p><p>...Unfix'd yet fix'd,<br/>Ever shall be, ever have been and are,<br/>Sweeping the present to the infinite future</p><p>-Walt Whitman</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eidolons

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first sequel to [Like a California King](), and takes place roughly three years later. Unfortunately this doesn't make much sense as a stand-alone :/ I swear to god this verse has a happy ending, which is why I'm posting both this and the sequel at the same time. I just want to throw that out there. I won't leave you guys hanging, because this story is definitely a little achey at times, but necessary. 
> 
> This story contains people having sex while under the mild to moderate influence of alcohol and/or marijuana. In the case of drunk sex, consent is expressively given after it is proven that the person in question isn't too drunk to give it. Basically, it's on the tipsy side of drunk sex, but just so everyone is aware in case that's something that people want to avoid. 
> 
> Thank you to [romanticalgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl) for a great beta on both of these stories.

_February 2008 - Cabin_

The rain is coming down thick and heavy, tinting the inside of Brendon's bedroom with a greenish hue. The Ponderosa pine trees cluster thick on this side of the house. Brendon can reach out his window and touch them if he wants. It's still pretty amazing.

"I am intensely stoned," Spencer announces, from where he's splayed out on Brendon's unmade bed.

Brendon nods, and kicks the heels of his feet against the carpet. The carpet in his room is brown and unexceptional, except for the texture. There's a scratchiness to it that makes it incredibly fun when he's high. It's like a full-body scratching post. 

I want you to fuck me, Brendon thinks. He pushes the soles of his feet against the carpet. It tingles with a rough burn.

"Are you still alive?" Spencer says, after a good five minutes have passed.

"I think I want you to fuck me," Brendon says. He waits for the expected rush of fear in his gut, the feeling of immediate and desperate panic, but it doesn't come. When Brendon was younger it was like something would snap in his brain whenever the topic came up, and the only thing he could think of to do was to run as far away as possible. His hands would shake. Something about it just hit a nerve, fired a spark in his brain that he seemed unable to overcome. 

"What?" Spencer says, sitting up and frowning down at Brendon. Brendon rolls his head back and forth on the carpet, feeling the scratch on his scalp, and looks up at Spencer from what feels like a long way away. The sound of the rain outside their window is strangely comforting. It's not like it rained a lot when Brendon was growing up, but apparently rain being soothing is a human constant or something. A universal.

"I want you to fuck me," Brendon says, more certain now. "I want us to fuck." 

"I don't want to jerk you off," Spencer says, flopping back down on the bed. "I'm too stoned. But if you come up here I'll suck your dick." He waves a hand lazily over the side, inviting Brendon to join him. "You think I can prop my head up with pillows like Ryan did last time? Then I could just sit here and open my mouth and you can do all the work."

"Daytime sex rule," Brendon reminds him, as he sits up and proceeds to give himself a massive head rush. He blinks, trying to regain his equilibrium. "It's 11am."

"Jon's asleep," Spencer says. "He doesn't have to know. Come up here and put your dick in my mouth." 

"That's not what I meant," Brendon says, crawling up onto the bed anyway. Spencer rolls his head to the side, and helpfully opens his mouth, like he's showing Brendon what he's offering. His hair is a mess against Brendon's pillow, and neither of them have showered in at least four days. It shouldn't be sexy, but it is. Brendon likes Spencer like this, when he's rumpled and smells like the three of them all at once. 

"Stop distracting me," Brendon says. He's not so high that he can't have a conversation, but he's high enough that he keeps getting derailed by small details, like pillow creases against Spencer's cheek or the way the bedside table lamp is just a tiny bit off-center on the bedside table.

"Dammit, now I'm horny," Spencer says, stretching out long and luxurious and reaching down to palm his dick through his sweatpants. "This is all your fault." 

"I didn't mean blowjobs," Brendon says, although he thinks that after he explains himself he's going to take that offered blowjob anyway. Screw Jon and his no-sex-during-the-daytime rule. He's been stealing Brendon's clean T-shirts again. "I meant like. Like." He can feel his face flaming, so he presses his face to the mattress for a moment and just breathes. 

It's so stupid that he can't talk about it. Brendon doesn't know why his brain is wired like this, why he can't talk about it when he can stick his fingers in Ryan's ass and rim him and then fuck him until Ryan sobs in relief. He can fuck Spencer slow and steady and he can eat Spencer out and tell him how much Brendon loves it the whole time he's doing it but he can't even say _maybe you should finger me_ to Spencer without having to practice his deep breathing exercises. His stupid deep breathing exercises that Patrick had originally taught him for stage fright, but that work just as well for everything else. 

"Do I have to say it?" Brendon says, after a long moment of silence. Maybe he's already gotten his point across. He peeks out from between his arms and Spencer has rolled on his side. He's looking at Brendon patiently. He's waiting for him to finish. 

"Yes," Spencer says.

"I want you to fuck me," Brendon says, ignoring the way his stomach is rolling. He's said it three times already, why isn't that enough? "I want you to do that thing I told you I'd never want to do. I changed my mind."

Spencer looks at him. 

"Why?"

"I don't know," Brendon says. It's not like he hasn't been fingering himself for at least a year now. The guys know he does it, because if they want a show he'll do it in front of them. But taking that step, moving it out of Brendon's control---it makes him freeze up. It's always been too intimate. 

"You just decided you want it?" Spencer says. His eyes are warm, like he doesn't mind waiting all day for Brendon to decide. Brendon knows he would. Brendon knows that if he decided today and then backed out at the last second, Spencer would let him and he wouldn't even be disappointed. Maybe that's why Brendon's finally ready to try it. He doesn't know. 

"Just me?" Spencer says. "Like, specifically you want me to fuck you, or you want Ryan and I to fuck you?"

"I want Ryan to be there," Brendon says. "But I can't take Ryan's cock, dude. I just don't think I can do it." 

"Understandable."

"I don't know how you do it."

"I like the way it hurts," Spencer says, rolling onto his belly and mirroring Brendon. His wrist is pressed against the sheets, but Brendon knows that if he looked closely there would be a long, thin scar still visible, one that matches his own. One that matches Ryan's. "You'd probably like the way it hurts too, but I realize that's sort of the advanced class."

"If you actually get your fingers in my ass without me freaking out, I'm calling it a success," Brendon says. Spencer reaches out and rubs Brendon's lower back, smoothing his thumb over the base of Brendon's spine. Brendon relaxes into the touch, taking another deep breath. He's okay. He's going to be okay. 

He's actually pretty proud of himself right now, proud of the way they're talking about it and proud of the way he's not freaking out yet. He's going to freak the fuck out in about six hours, but it's not like they won't all be expecting it. At least this time he'll be able to take some beer and his phone into the woods, and feel like he's safe and far away when he's really only 20 feet from the house.

"When do you want to do it?" Spencer says. "Here, or do you want to wait until we're back in civilization?"

"Civilization," Brendon says. "I want to get a big stupid hotel room and lie around and jerk off in the hot tub and do shots. And then you guys can come over and we'll do it." 

"Not too many shots."

"Not too many shots," Brendon agrees. They've had plenty of drunk sex over the years, but Brendon wants to be relatively sober for this. He just knows he's going to need something to take the edge off.

"We should go find Ryan and tell him," Spencer says, just as the door clicks open and Ryan walks in. Brendon sits up on the bed. Ryan's holding his phone in one hand, looking shell-shocked. 

"Ry?" Spencer says, taking one look at Ryan and then sitting up on the bed "What's up?"

Ryan just shakes his head, burrowing in between them on Brendon's bed. It's a queen, big enough to fit all three of them, and Ryan gets in the middle and under the covers before either of them ask him again. 

"Your mom?" Spencer says. Ryan shakes his head. He's staring up at the ceiling with dull, unfocused eyes, and Brendon might have suspected him of taking something if he didn't know that look all too well. 

"Keltie wants us to be exclusive," Ryan says, after a while. His tone is entirely flat. Brendon opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say. It's not like they haven't seen this coming, but it's one thing to think _maybe_ , and another to have to face it head-on. 

"Is this about us?" Spencer says. He's holding Ryan's hand under the covers. "Is she jealous?"

"She says she isn't," Ryan says. "She loves you guys. She just said that she wants to try it for a while and see if there's really something there, if the two of us might want to turn this into something long-term. Because she loves me, but she's not--she can't do what we do," Ryan says. "She's monogamous." 

"And you're not," Brendon says, filling in the words that Ryan isn't saying.

"No," Ryan says. He bites his lower lip, worrying at the corner. "I'm not." 

Spencer squeezes Ryan's hand, hard enough that Brendon can feel it on Ryan's other side. Then he gets up, not looking at either of them, leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Brendon lets him go. He learned a long time ago not to try and mediate between the two of them, even if they try to make him. There are some things he doesn't need to be in the middle of. 

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Ryan says, sounding pained. "I don't want to talk about this right now." 

"I wasn't saying anything."

"I know," Ryan says. "Just. Shut up. I don't know. Don't try to make me talk about it." 

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't want to talk at all," Ryan says, and kisses him. It's a thick, bruising kiss, the kind that Ryan's never seemed to grow out of. He's mellowed over the years, but he still kisses Brendon the same way as he did when he was 17. 

Brendon kisses him back, reaching for Ryan's sweatpants and pushing them down, rolling over to meet him halfway. Ryan's quiet and desperate, and Brendon ends up fucking him on the floor, against the carpet, a towel spread below his hands and knees so he doesn't get rug burn. Brendon knows he's breaking the rules, knows Jon can probably hear them, but he doesn't care. Ryan has one hand on Brendon's thigh, wrapped awkwardly around the side of Brendon's body, like he has to make sure that Brendon won't leave until they're done. 

"Do it harder," Ryan says, each time Brendon slows down. Brendon kisses his spine.

\--

Spencer doesn't want to talk about it, and Ryan doesn't want to talk about it, and that leaves Brendon and Jon with a studio full of instruments and a house full of silence. 

They're working hard, trying to meld their styles together, re-working everything they have until it starts to sound like something new. It's strange to work with Jon without Ryan's musical buffer there to absorb the difference. Brendon loves Jon, but they don't always see eye to eye when it comes to melody. 

"Is anyone going to even bother telling me what's going on?" Jon says, tuning Brendon's guitar for him one afternoon. Brendon's currently stuffing his face with the rest of the nachos that Jon's left on their shared plate, and it takes him a moment to reply. He's sure Jon knows exactly what goes on with them, but he doesn't know how much of this is Ryan's story to tell. 

"Did you ask Ryan about it?" Brendon says, trying to keep his voice light and even. 

"He wouldn't say anything."

"It's up to him." Brendon reaches for his beer, trying not to make eye contact. God, he always feels like shit when he has to do this. He wishes Ryan would man the fuck up and learn how to communicate like a human being. 

"This is about Keltie, isn't it.This is about her and Cassie coming next week."

Brendon drinks his beer.

"I'm right, aren't I."

"I plead the fifth." 

"I thought you guys weren't exclusive."

"We're not," Brendon says. He'd had that thing with Shane for a while, and Spencer had dated Haley for six months back in 2005. Haley, who was lovely and funny and also a girl. Ryan had waited exactly one week before saying what everyone had been dying to say, approaching it with his usual sledgehammer of tact and good grace.

"Since when are you not gay?"

"Since last week, apparently," Spencer had said, clutching his Red Bull like a lifeline. They'd been dropped off in an artist's lounge and then ignored for two hours while someone, somewhere, figured out where they were supposed to be. Zack had been ripshit.

"And it...worked? I mean, it all worked. When it was supposed to?" Brendon took a large gulp of his soda. He'd gotten a handjob from a girl once, way back in high school. It had taken him forever to come.

"Yeah," Spencer had said. He'd looked uncomfortable, like he didn't particularly like this new revelation either. "We were just--we were talking, and then we were making out, and then it happened? I was totally into it. I'm totally into her. I don't know what to do."

"This is why God invented the Kinsey scale," Jon intoned solemnly.

"God didn't invent the Kinsey scale. Alfred Kinsey invented the Kinsey scale."

"I don't even like breasts."

"Please tell me you used birth control," Ryan had muttered.

"She's on the pill," Spencer said, and then they had finally been called in for their interview. Brendon hadn't been mad, exactly, but it had been weird finding out that he was the only gay one in their relationship. Spencer still maintains that Haley was a fluke, a never-to-be-repeated event, but Brendon's not sure that's quite true.

Brendon sets his beer down on the floor of the studio, and wipes his mouth. Thinking about Shane and Haley makes him feel weird inside. 

"Then if you're not exclusive, I don't get why this is any different," Jon says, setting Brendon's guitar down and picking up his bass. Brendon's bass is already in tune, but Brendon doesn't say anything.

"You have to ask Ryan about it," Brendon says, again. "It doesn't have anything to do with me."

"He's _your_ boyfriend."

"Sort of. Not really."

"I don't understand you guys," Jon mutters. He's not angry, just frustrated. He'd told Brendon once that he was starting to think that all bands required some sort of incestuous relationship or else they wouldn't function properly. Brendon has a feeling he can thank Tomrad for 90% of Jon's acceptance of his and Spencer's and Ryan's relationship.

"They'll work their shit out soon," Brendon says, picking up his guitar. "Come on, I want to finish working on the chorus of that catchy one."

"The catchy one?"

"The one about smoking weed."

"They're all about smoking weed, dude."

"Right," Brendon says. "But, you know. _Things have changed_..." He picks out the intro on the strings of his acoustic.

"Cosmic irony," Jon mutters, shaking his head. Brendon laughs. 

\--

Spencer's standing on the back porch, facing out towards the woods as he smokes. He's wearing Brendon's favorite leather jacket and his back is tight. 

"You're going to have to let him go," Brendon says, stepping out through the sliding glass doors. He doesn't know why he's suddenly decided to weigh in _now_ when he's been playing Switzerland for a week and a half, but once the words are out he can't take them back.

"I know," Spencer says. He doesn't turn around.

"Then why are you _doing_ this," Brendon mutters. It's not like he isn't upset about Ryan leaving, but--it's already a lost cause. Keltie and Ryan have a puppy together. They're dating. 

It's serious. 

Brendon thinks that somewhere in the back of his mind, he must have always known it would come to this. He doesn't know how the hell Ryan's going to manage being in a monogamous relationship, but that's not Brendon's problem. 

"Because It's not who he is," Spencer says, as Brendon joins him at the railing of the porch. Brendon must not have been whispering to himself as softly as he'd thought he had. "He's trying to like--fuck, I don't know. Don't you get it? Keltie's just like his _mom_. But it's not what he really wants, and if he tries to make himself want it he's going to end up ruining everything."

"You don't think he loves her?" 

"Of course he loves her," Spencer says. He sounds bitter. "It's not about that. It's about Ryan trying to find his happy dream family. It's about puzzle pieces that are never going to fit."

"You think he's going to cheat on her," Brendon says softly. 

"I hope not." 

"Fuck." Brendon tips his head back, looking up at the stars. "So that's why you're fighting? You _said_ that to him?"

"In not as many words."

"Spencer," Brendon snaps. "That shit isn't okay."

"I don't want to let him go," Spencer says, and there's real anger there, something hurt and broken in his voice. Brendon sighs and moves over, setting his beer down on the railing and sliding his arms around Spencer from behind. Spencer stiffens against him at first, but then he slumps down, lets Brendon press his cold nose to the back of Spencer's neck. 

"This isn't the time for me to quote Mariah Carey at you, is it," Brendon says quietly. "I feel like that butterfly song is appropriate here."

"I might punch you."

"You won't punch me," Brendon says. "You're not going to punch him, either. You're going to get over this and be happy for him, even if you think he's making a massive mistake."

"You don't think he is?"

"I don't think you can blame him for trying," Brendon says, looking out over Spencer's shoulder into the darkness. Spencer's childhood was happy. As much as he tries, he sometimes still can't figure out why Ryan or Brendon act on instincts that neither of them really understand. 

"Maybe," Spencer says dully. 

"Come on, come inside." Brendon squeezes his arms around Spencer. "There's frozen pizza and Independence Day is on." 

"That movie is patriotic bullshit."

"With aliens," Brendon says. "And explosions. Lots of explosions. And Will Smith." 

"I'm not convinced."

"Oh shut up, you love this movie," Brendon says, letting go of Spencer's waist and pulling on his arm so that Spencer is facing him. "Stop being pissy. I know you love this movie." 

"Fine," Spencer says, with a ghost of a smile on his mouth. He looks exhausted. "Only because you're so incredibly persuasive."

"I'll blow you in the downstairs bathroom. _That's_ persuasive. Now come on, it's starting." Brendon tugs Spencer back towards the house with one hand on his arm. 

\--

"If I take this," Jon says, his hands hovering over the wad of bills in Brendon's hand. "If I take this, I never want to know why I wasn't allowed in the house tonight. Never." It's 4pm, and Jon is armed with his laptop, their grocery list, and $100 in buy-off cash. 

"Our lips are sealed."

"And nothing's going to happen that involves my room, my bed, or the downstairs couch."

"Jesus, yes," Brendon says, rolling his eyes and shoving the money into Jon's hands."We're not heathens. We're not going to fuck on your bed." 

"I'm leaving now," Jon says, getting into the driver's seat of their rented SUV. "This is me turning my music up really loud, see? This is me driving away before you say any more." 

"Shut up and enjoy your steak dinner," Brendon says. He stands in the driveway and watches until Jon rounds the bend in the road and disappears behind the tree line. 

Brendon shoves his hands in his pockets and goes back inside, whistling quietly to himself. He bypasses the first floor entirely and heads up the stairs up to the master bathroom, stripping off his clothing as he goes. 

There's a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass next to the sink. Brendon takes his first shot naked, windows open, the sun pouring in and cutting a thick yellow line across the marble counters. Then he fills up the over-large tub in the center of the bathroom, drumming his heels on the floor as he waits. 

It's not a swanky hotel room, but it'll do. 

Brendon does two more shots in the bath, enough to feel loose and boneless by the time he gets out. His skin is pink and soft and Brendon runs a hand over his stomach, feeling the stubble. He needs to shave. 

Ryan's razor is newer and sharper than Brendon's. It has a dark blue handle and a ceramic blade and Brendon knows it probably cost an absurd amount of money. Brendon rinses it off and uses it to shave his armpits, his stomach, his balls, around his asshole. The whiskey swims low in his belly and he nicks himself a few times, but by the end he's smooth and clean. 

Brendon runs his fingers over the skin just above his cock, and bites his lip at how good it feels. Everything always feels better when he's shaved. 

Brendon thinks about going back to his bedroom, but in the end he just leans up against the marble counter and jerks off. The sharp edge of the countertop digs into the meat of his thighs as Brendon watches himself in the mirror. He likes the strangeness of it, the sense of being both inside and outside his own body. He licks his fingers and then rubs his thumb up against his hole, feeling the sudden flutter as his body recognizes the pressure. 

He opens his eyes and comes into the bathroom sink, splattering the sides of the tasteful ceramic basin. When he looks up again, Spencer is standing in the doorway. He has his arms crossed, but he's not impatient. Just waiting. 

"Hey," Brendon says, through the mirror. He turns the faucet on, washing his come down the drain. 

"Hey," Spencer says. "Still want to do this?"

"Yeah," Brendon says, trying for flippant but arriving at scared. It feels like his skin is buzzing. "Didn't you catch the show?"

"Only the end," Spencer says. He crosses the room, pressing a kiss to Brendon's shoulder blade. His hands rest on Brendon's hips. 

"I'm not scared," Brendon says, even though he is. 

"It's okay if you are," Spencer says. "I was." 

"...Really?" Brendon twists to face him.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "I don't know how much you remember, but I talked a lot of shit back then. I was terrified the first time you fucked me." 

"Spencer," Brendon murmurs, his hand covering Spencer's on his hip. He remembers everything about that night--the pull-out couch in the apartment in Maryland, the way Ryan's hair had been soaking wet from his shower. The unsettling sensation of being sheathed inside another human being. He didn't know Spencer had been scared.

"Don't get me wrong, I might have killed someone if one of you hadn't fucked me that night," Spencer rumbles, voice warm and very close to Brendon's ear. "I wanted it. It was all I could think about it. But what I'm saying is--I know how you feel." 

"Maybe," Brendon says. He doesn't know if anyone, anywhere, can ever actually know how another person feels. He gets what Spencer is saying, though. That he's here, and it's okay if Brendon is afraid. 

Spencer kisses him on the cheek, surprisingly chaste. "Ryan's downstairs," Spencer says. "You want me to tell him to come up? He wasn't sure, if--"

"Yeah, of course," Brendon says. "I'm not mad at him. He knows that, right?"

"You might need to remind him of that. He thinks the whole world is mad at him right now." 

"You were mad at him," Brendon says, smiling ruefully. "You _are_ the whole world." 

"So are you." Spencer shakes his head, looking away. 

"Let's go get him," Brendon says, after a long moment when neither of them speak. "It's time to get this show on the road." 

\--

In the end, Brendon thinks, it won't matter. 

It won't matter that the first thing Ryan says when he walks into the room is, "So, how hard you want your goodbye fuck?" and it won't matter about the fight and Spencer slamming the door and Brendon standing naked in between them.

It won't matter that it takes two hours for everyone to calm down, that Brendon lies in bed and does shots and occasionally hands the bottle of whiskey over to Ryan, who is lying next to Brendon and staring at the ceiling. 

"I'm not actually mad at you," Brendon says, for what feels like the millionth time. "Just don't be a dick." 

"I'm scared," Ryan says, and Brendon knows he's only admitting it because he's drunk. 

"Just try it with her," Brendon says, and it's like he can see the days stretching out before him and somehow he's not even a part of them. Like he can just stand up above everything and watch dispassionately at their future. Maybe he was always waiting for Ryan to leave. Maybe he knew he'd never be enough. 

"Why are you _encouraging_ me?" Ryan says. "I don't get it. Do you even care? You're acting like this whole thing isn't even your problem." 

Brendon scrubs a hand over his face. "It's not that I don't care," he says, and his voice comes out softer than usual. "But I know what it's like to want something for forever. And I didn't--" He turns on his side, up on one elbow, looking down at Ryan. "I didn't expect this to be forever," Brendon says and it hurts, oh fuck. It hurts to say it, way down in his stomach. "But I think Spencer did."

"I love you," Ryan says softly, looking down and twining his fingers with Brendons. "Both of you." 

"Which is why I'm not storming out." 

"Okay," Ryan says. He looks up at Brendon. Brendon leans down and kisses him. Ryan kisses back. He tugs Brendon on top of him and lets his hands fall possessively on Brendon's hips, and Brendon tries to memorize the sensation. 

They kiss until Ryan's hard and ready, until Brendon's up for another round since it looks like no one's going to be fucking him tonight. In all the craziness he'd almost forgotten that the whole reason they were all here was so someone could stick their dick up his ass. 

"Let me finger you," Ryan says softly. They're under the blankets, sticky with sweat. 

"But Spencer---"

"He'll come around," Ryan says, biting Brendon's lip. He pulls away and his eyes are large and sad but Brendon knows that he's right, knows that Spencer's trying to get his shit together. He would never just abandon the two of them out of anger. 

"It's been like, an hour," Brendon says. His stomach swoops. Ryan's thumb is smoothing over his hip. 

"He'll come back," Ryan says. "Can I? Please? I didn't--" He's whispering, babbling, pushing the words into Brendon's ear like secrets. "I wasn't going to say anything, I _didn't_ say anything, but I just want to, I've always wanted to--"

"Yeah," Brendon breathes. Another swoop. A little more excitement this time, a little more roller coaster drop rather than elevator crash. 

"Fuck," Ryan says. His hands are on Brendon's ass, his fingertips brushing over the crease and Brendon wants it, Jesus, some nerve just got pinched or hit because it's like a sudden fire down his spine. He gasps into Ryan's mouth. 

"Hey," Spencer says softly. 

Brendon looks up to see him standing next to the bed. He's bare chested and wearing plain black sweatpants.

"Hey," Brendon breathes out. He knows what he must look like right now. He hopes Spencer isn't in here expecting rational conversation because Ryan is about to put his fingers in Brendon's ass and Brendon's pretty occupied with that. 

"I'm an asshole," Spencer says. "I'm sorry. To Ryan. Specifically. I'm sorry." 

Ryan nods. Then he pinches Brendon's ass, under the covers. Brendon rolls his face into Ryan's shoulder, giggling helplessly. He's drunk. Ryan snickers too, trying to keep a straight face.

"Okay," Ryan says. "I'm drunk and I love you and I'm going to finger Brendon. You should help." 

"Fucking oh my god," Brendon says, into Ryan's neck. "Yes."

"Lushes," Spencer says, pushing his sweatpants down and climbing into bed with them. He kisses Ryan long and hard. Brendon closes his eyes and tries to memorize the feeling of being so close to another person's kiss. He thinks he's going to miss that the most. 

Spencer pulls away, biting Ryan one last time before reaching over and inspecting Brendon's bottle of Glenlivet. "How much did you drink?" Spencer says, unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a long swig. 

"I don't know," Brendon says rolling off of Ryan and on to his back. "It's just hitting me now. Hitting us now. Ryan had some."

"What's 12 plus 8?"

Brendon thinks about it. He screws up his face. "Twenty?"

"Good job. You still want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," Brendon says. "Yes. _Yes_."

"Okay," Spencer says. He leans over and kisses Brendon and when Brendon closes his eyes it's like a wave crashing through him, Spencer's mouth and Ryan's hands and oh, he's drunk and this is awesome. It's hello and goodbye. Maybe he finally understands that damn Beatles song. 

"I'm going to just," Ryan says, and climbs in between Brendon's legs, hooking Brendon's knees over his thighs. Brendon can feel the bottle of lube, can feel it brush against his legs and the sheets and he thinks Ryan is just like, _pouring_ it on him which is so dumb and sweet and Ryan-like that he can't help but laugh.

"I'm good," Brendon whispers. "No, seriously. I'm good." 

"It's your first time," Ryan says. He rubs the tip of his finger around Brendon's rim and Brendon wants to say that it's not his first time, he's stuck enough things up there himself, but the words catch in his throat. 

"Do it," Brendon whispers. Ryan pushes in, just the tip, and he slides back out again. Brendon bites his lip, rolling his hips back into it. Ryan's finger's feel larger than his own. Spencer's hand is covering Ryan's, brushing his fingers over where Brendon's stretched open and Brendon can't breathe. He doesn't think he's ever wanted something this badly. 

"Ryan," Brendon moans. "I'm not an actual virgin. Two. Now." 

"As you wish," Ryan says, raising an eyebrow and pushing another finger into Brendon's ass. Brendon wants to smack him for making lame movie jokes during really important sexual moments but he's busy. _Really_ busy.

"How does it feel?" Spencer says, brushing Brendons hair away from his face. He holds Brendon's chin and kisses him. Brendon pants into his mouth. 

"Good," Brendon says. "Big. Really good." 

"Ryan really wanted to finger you."

"He told me."

"In like, high school." 

"I know," Brendon says. Fuck, Ryan's fingers are long. Ryan's inside him. Brendon feels a sudden jolt of anxiety at the thought and tenses up. Ryan pulls back. 

"Okay?"Ryan says, brushing his fingers over Brendon's hole. "Too much? Did it hurt?"

"No," Brendon says, and waits for his brain to catch up with his body. Waits for them to settle down into some sort of equilateral truce and then he says, "Keep going, do three, but do it really slowly." 

"Yeah," Ryan says. He kisses the corner of Brendon's mouth. He's leaking against Brendon's thigh, a smear of wetness every time he flexes his hips into Brendon's. "You're really tight." 

"Keep telling me that," Brendon says, gasping out loud at how weirdly hot it is, to hear Ryan say that. Apparently he likes being told he's tight. Apparently he gets off on that. Okay. 

"Uh," Ryan says. "You're tight?"

"Goddammit," Brendon says. Ryan's only good at dirty talk when he doesn't know he's doing it. Today is no exception.

"I'll take over," Spencer says, grinning into Brendon's shoulder. "I don't think Ryan can handle that much responsibility right now."

"Shut up," Ryan says. "You know I'm bad at that kind of thing. Shut up." He pushes two fingers back in, slow and slick. Brendon moans and pushes back down against his hand. His legs are spread so wide and Ryan's between them and he doesn't think he's ever felt this _open_ before, this vulnerable. 

"Breathe," Ryan says, and then okay, yeah, that's his ring finger, and Brendon tries to comply, tries to relax back into Spencer's arms and let everything go loose. 

"Jesus," Ryan murmurs, as he slowly, slowly pushes the third finger inside. "You really are tight, goddamn."

"See?" Brendon says, his stomach dropping again, hot anticipation making his toes curl. "You're good at talking when you're just thinking out loud. Keep thinking." 

"I'm thinking about your ass," Ryan says. "You really want me to think out loud about your ass?"

"You think out loud about Spencer's," Brendon says. 

"Fine," Ryan says. He's twisting his fingers, doing something that Brendon can't describe or name--his own wrist definitely doesn't twist that way--and it's making him want to beg. He really, really wants to beg because no one is touching his dick, and Spencer is biting his neck and Ryan has three fingers in his ass and it is _criminal_ that no one is touching his dick right now, okay. It is a crime. 

"I think your ass is hot and I wish I was the one who gets to fuck you," Ryan says, leaning down to swipe his tongue over the head of Brendon's dick and halle-fucking-lujah, Brendon's prayers are answered. He arches up into the sensation. 

"I want to see you writhing and trying to take it and maybe even tearing up and crying a little but I realize that's kind of fucked up," Ryan says. He kisses the slit on the head of Brendon's cock, running his tongue into the groove. "So I'm glad Spencer's fucking you and that I get to watch. I want to see what your face looks like every time he fucks into you."

"Oh my god," Brendon says. "Oh my god, okay, no more fingering, we're done." He pushes at Ryan's hand. "Spencer, get your shit together and fuck me." His chest is heaving and he can feel the sweat running down his temple. Ryan and his stupid, dirty mouth and his stupid observations that only come out when Brendon is least expecting them. 

Spencer bites at the curve of Brendon's shoulder one more time, and then he's gently moving away, setting Brendon's shoulders and head back down on the pillow so he can grab a condom. He pauses on his way to kiss Ryan again, to run his hands down Ryan's sides and over his cock, to whisper something into his ear that Brendon knows will forever be words kept between them alone.

He's okay with that. 

Ryan breaks away, kissing Spencer long and slow, running his hands through Spencer's hair. Brendon just watches, fisting himself. 

"Condom," Spencer mumbles eventually. "I need to get--"

"I know," Ryan says. He lays down on the bed next to Brendon and starts arranging things. Brendon frowns at him. 

"What are you doing?"

"Get up on all fours," Ryan says, helping Brendon roll up and over his body. He's positioning two pillows between their hips, which is sweet of him, but also means he can't feel Ryan's _cock_. 

"No pillows," Brendon says, as Ryan's arranging their arms so that Brendon will have enough space to move and kiss Ryan and also not die when Spencer fucks him. "What's with the pillows?"

"My hipbones," Ryan says. "Trust me, you want those pillows there. You're going to want the padding." 

"I don't need padding. I want your _dick_."

"Listen to Ryan," Spencer rumbles, and suddenly he's kissing the back of Brendon's neck, moving slowly down his spine. "You're both tiny and bony. No one needs to go to the hospital today." 

"You are not fucking me hard enough to send me to the hospital," Brendon orders. 

"Have you ever whacked your shin into someone else's shin?" Ryan says. "That bone-on-bone feeling? It's like that." 

"Fine," Brendon says. "But I'm going to come all over your pillow." 

"Me too," Ryan says. He kisses Brendon, rough and possessive, his hands coming to rest in the hollow of Brendon's back. They're touching everywhere except for Ryan's weird pillow padding. Brendon guesses he kind of gets it. It tilts his hips up and makes him open wider and god, okay, yeah, if Spencer is going to put his weight on Brendon like that maybe he _is_ going to need to the pillows. 

Spencer presses up against him, letting himself wrap around Brendon for a moment before rubbing his dick up against the crack of Brendon's ass. Brendon groans into Ryan's shoulder. He feels like he should be scared, but right now he just wants it. He just wants to get over the hurdle and _know_ , wants to feel it from the other side. 

He just really, really wants Spencer's dick in his ass. 

"Now," Brendon orders, reaching back to squeeze at Spencer's hand. "Now, now, come on." 

"Breathe," Spencer says. He's pouring more lube on, opening Brendon up with two fingers while he starts to gently push the head of his cock in and Brendon is suddenly, utterly overwhelmed because three fingers is _nothing at all like cock, holy hell._

"Ohmygod," Brendon mumbles, into Ryan's mouth. They're not kissing so much as panting at each other. He knows his mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide and surprised and he might even be grimacing a bit but he can't. He just. He thinks he might be hyperventilating, oh god, maybe he was wrong, Spencer feels huge, he can't take this--

"Breathe, okay, breath with me," Ryan whispers, curling his hand around the back of Brendon's neck. He lets his chest rise and fall and Brendon tries to comply, tries to match it so they're inhaling in tandem. It takes few tries but then all of a sudden Spencer is inside and Brendon just--

\--wants more. 

"Okay?" Spencer whispers, rubbing his hand over the small of Brendon's back, over his ass, trying to position his hips so it's easiest for him to open up. "Brendon, are you okay?"

"M'good," Brendon manages. "More." 

"Yeah." Spencer pushes in and oh god, it's that same feeling all over again, like Brendon is being pulled apart but this time it makes his stomach swoop and roll, because fuck, Spencer is inside him and Brendon doesn't know why he wants it and he doesn't know why it's hot but it's _hot_ , okay, he just wants more and more and more. 

"So good," Ryan says, kissing Brendon on the earlobe. "You're doing so good." 

"Thanks, mom," Brendon says, because he can never keep his stupid mouth shut when there's a joke to be made. Ryan starts laughing, and then Brendon's snickering too and oh, god, when he finally relaxes and Spencer's all the way this is nice, it's so nice and Spencer's hands are on his hips and Brendon feels--safe. 

Surrounded. 

Protected. 

He hopes it's still going to feel like this when Ryan's gone. 

"M' gonna move," Spencer says. He's panting with the effort of staying still, his forearms flexing in the corner of Brendon's vision while he leans down for a moment to catch his breath. Then he straightens up again, pulling Brendon's hips up gently, even farther. 

The slide out is weird, and the slide back in is good, and then there's more lube and Brendon didn't even know that he needed more lube but oh god he _did_ , because the next push and the next and the next are amazing. He's leaking all over Ryan's pillow and starting to hit that no-mind territory. He can't think, he can't make sentences, he can only react and respond and--

"Holy _fuck_ ," Brendon moans out, gripping anything he can reach as Spencer stops holding back. He's hitting all the right spots--hell, he's hitting all the _spots_ , period, Brendon's so full he's pretty sure there is no more of him left to hit. He's so full but every thrust opens him up just that much more, infinitesimally, and when Spencer slows down again his cock is suddenly deep and easy inside.

Brendon mumbles something wordless, biting down on Ryan's shoulder when he can't reach Ryan's mouth. Ryan shifts so that they're face to face, so that Brendon's looking directly into Ryan's eyes. It's crazy. It's so intimate and Brendon doesn't think he's ever let this much of himself open up to anyone and it feels like Ryan is the one fucking him, sort of, even though he knows it's Spencer. He's starting to get why Ryan wanted them to do it like this. 

"Hi," Ryan whispers. He looks awed. 

"Hi," Brendon says. He has no idea what he looks like anymore. He's past the point of self- recognition. It's all he can do to stay upright and process what his body is telling him. 

"You look beautiful," Ryan says. It's cheesy, but Ryan doesn't mean it that way. He's utterly serious. The words make something clench in Brendon's chest and suddenly he wants to throw a temper tantrum, wants to hold on and dig his fingers in and never let Ryan go. 

"I--" Brendon doesn't know what to say. He can't do words right now. Spencer is fucking him. 

Ryan shakes his head, kissing Brendon's temple, holding him closer. "Harder," Ryan tells Spencer, and Brendon feels Spencer pause for a moment until Brendon nods his head, reaching back to squeeze at Spencer's thigh. 

Yes. Harder, please. Harder. 

Brendon knows this is the end as soon as Spencer slams back in. Everything tenses up inside and Spencer groans, his fingers pressing down on Brendon's hips hard enough to bruise. Brendon is close and he's weightless and endless. Ryan is kissing him and Brendon whines. He whimpers and he cries out and then everything is just right, _perfect_ , and he's coming all over his own cock, each thrust a little wetter until he's thick and sated and he's ruined the pillow and there's nothing left. He thinks Spencer came, but he doesn't know. He was too busy inside his own body to notice. 

"You come?" He slurs out, to the room in general. Spencer grunts and fuck, no, he hadn't, but _now _he is. Brendon can feel each pulse, and he's rubbing down into the pillow even though he has nothing left, even though he's wet and sticky. It's so hot he doesn't know what to do. It's so hot even though he's spent. Boneless.__

__"No," Ryan says, his face scrunching up like he's in pain. His head is tipped back and Brendon fumbles until the pillows have been pushed away, until he can rub his cock up alongside Ryan's, sticky and wet. Spencer is still _inside him_. _ _

__Ryan gasps and clutches at Brendon. The head of his cock catches somewhere in the mess and Brendon thrusts down as hard as he can and then Ryan's mouth is dropping open, silent and overwhelmed. He comes everywhere. Brendon can feel the mess between them spreading just below his breastbone, hot and wet._ _

__"Brendon--I need to--" Spencer sounds pained._ _

__"Pull out," Brendon says, and braces himself, but it's not as bad as he expects. He's so open now that the slide is easy, and Spencer is already softening up._ _

__Brendon kisses Ryan's open, panting mouth and then he carefully unsticks their stomachs until he can roll onto his back next to Ryan. They need showers. They need a thousand tissues and showers and there's lube everywhere. Brendon doesn't think he can move. He doesn't want to move anywhere again._ _

__"That," Brendon says eventually, after it seems like everyone's come down a little from their endorphin high. "That was."_ _

__"Yeah," Ryan says. He nudges at Spencer. "Spence. Can you. Tissues?"_ _

__"My dick is covered in come," Spencer points out._ _

__"We're all covered in come," Brendon says. "If I move, it's going to be like Niagara Falls on this shit. It's all going over the side. Do you really want to sleep on that?_ _

__"Ugh," Spencer says, but he gets up, cupping himself and crossing the room to grab the nearest roll of toilet paper. They all stash one in their dressers or luggage for exactly this reason. Spencer cleans himself off, and then he tosses the roll onto the bed. By the time they're all dry, there's a small mountain of wadded up paper on the bed between them. It reeks of come._ _

__"We have created a Mount Everest of sex," Brendon says tiredly._ _

__"A Mount Everest of gross," Ryan says, but he gets up and dumps everything into the bedside trashcan, on top of Spencer's used condom. They'll have to get rid of it before Jon comes home._ _

__Ryan lays back down on the bed between them, and Brendon rolls closer to him without thinking. He looks up to see Spencer on Ryan's other side. Brendon nudges his nose behind Ryan's ear, and keeps him close with a hand on Ryan's opposite hip, covering the hand that Spencer has already placed there._ _

__"How many days until Keltie comes?" Brendon asks softly, when the silence gets too loud._ _

__"Two," Ryan says quietly. "She and Cassie will be here on Friday."_ _

__"Maybe we should just pay for Jon to get a hotel," Spencer mumbles into Ryan's hair. Brendon cracks a smile against Ryan's shoulder._ _

__"Yeah," Ryan says, leaning into Spencer's chest. He runs his fingers through Brendon's hair, pulling them both closer, until there's no place where any of them end or begin._ _

__Brendon closes his eyes and tries to breath Ryan in, to remember him in every molecule like this, soft and close and belonging to Brendon. "Yeah, maybe."_ _


End file.
